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Steve is on the floor in the far-too-large garage that juts off one side of the mansion. It's one of the few places he's almost guaranteed privacy, since Tony usually doesn't want to talk when he comes in to work on his own vehicles and no one else has much reason to come in here at all.

For his part, Steve is working on the vintage Harley Knucklehead he still can't believe he owns. Even the one he had way-back-when ("way-back-when") technically belonged to the US government. This one, though, is his. A gift from the Avengers, Tony had said, for the Captain's first twenty-first-century birthday. Or his ninety-fourth. Whichever way he felt like looking at it.

The older man had made it seem like nothing. Steve couldn't possibly have disagreed more.

So there he is, checking every bolt and rod, humming quietly to himself as he does so.

It's The Star Spangled Man, for the curious.

Jane Foster is stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth and trying to read one set of notes around another armload of notes as she makes her way from the SHIELD offices in Times Square to the subway. She could take a company car, but she still hasn't quite accustomed herself to reliance on SHIELD, and given her recent track record, she'd as soon let someone else do the driving.

Coulson is being Coulson. In other words, he's early to a meeting with Tony Stark, expects Stark to be late, and so is watching Project Runway on one of the mansion's several big screen TVs in one of its several lounges.

Supernanny reruns are on next.

Tony Stark watches the clock and carefully makes himself late to his meeting with Agent Coulson, who is currently - according to JARVIS - sitting three floors up and five rooms over watching reality TV. Tony is on his third martini, has decided that martini glasses are for squares, and is now drinking out of a mug as he works one of JARVIS's projected simulations of a new suit design while sitting on a couch in one of the small libraries. This suit is tailored for high-altitude subsonic flight and work in other cold, low-oxygen environments. He's been thinking a lot lately about what happened to Rogers. This is his way of getting it out of his system.

"JARVIS. How much longer until Coulson's show is over."

"Twenty-three minutes, sir."

"Let me know when he's two minutes from the good parts."

"Of course."

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He looks up at her from over the bike's seat, singing, "Who's here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with-"

Steve stops abruptly and gives a little cough. He hauls himself upright and attempts to wipe some of the grease off of his hands and onto a hand towel, two fingers still wrapped around a wrench. "No! No, not at all. I was just..."

He gestures at the bike. "It doesn't really need any work- it's in beautiful condition, but. It's relaxing. Did you need something?"

Edited 2011-09-21 06:47 (UTC)

Olivia doesn't quite manage to suppress her smile at his interrupted singing. She shakes her head and starts toward him - at this distance, conversation's just a little uncomfortable, and there's no reason to keep hovering near the door.

"No, I don't. I was just taking a walk around the building - I didn't know you'd be down here." She shrugs a little, grinning. "I guess I've never been very good at not doing anything. I'm not sure I can call this a vacation, but it's definitely a change of pace. This is actually the most time I've had off work in... over two years now, if you don't count time in the hospital."

"It does take getting used to." Steve inspects the wrench thoughtfully. He's still not used to it, if he's being honest. There's no time off during war, even if he wasn't always on active missions one hundred percent of the time.

"I'm not very good at it either," he admits. "It's part of the reason I do so much volunteer work."

And so many public appearances. And so many personal museum trips, VA hospital visits...

Sometimes the whole villain-fighting thing doesn't fill enough hours in the day.

"Anything I can help with?" she asks almost hesitantly, head ducked slightly. "I know I'm not going to be here long, but..."

Olivia spreads her hands, not quite a shrug, and looks at Steve with an expression she doesn't realize is a little pleading. She obviously doesn't have anything to do with all the time on her hands, in the meantime, and it might be bothering her more than she'd admit.

That face. He is helpless before that face. Steve looks down at the bike, trying to think of something she could do, and the best he can come up with is, "Help me test the balance on her- er, on the bike?"

Olivia looks from Steve to the bike and back, a little surprised by the offer. "You mean go for a ride?" she asks with a slowly growing smile. It's not exactly what she expected, but it's better than wandering around the mansion, or sitting in her room worrying about everyone at home, trying to figure out what went wrong.

"If you want. You don't have to." He glances down, mentally double-checking all the little maintenance things he's done in the past hour. "There's a private exit to the garage, so we wouldn't have to ah... You won't need to worry about the newspaper folks."

Not that they're all from newspapers, but Steve still can't quite wrap his head around the multitudes of gossip magazines that seem to exist these days. He vaguely remembers his mother reading Broadway Brevities and Society Gossip when he was young, but there was nothing like the harlequin deluge of bright photos and exclamation-pointed headlines he sees when he walks past newsstands now. "I was planning on heading out in a bit anyway. Um- you wouldn't mind if we made a stop, would you?"

"Not at all. I'd love a chance to get out of here for a little while." She hasn't actually left the mansion since the first time - all she wanted was a little space and some hairdye so she actually looked like herself again, and instead she ended up mobbed by the press that apparently live outside the gates and rescued by the Captain and Tony Stark. That was an interesting adventure, and not one she'd care to repeat. "If you wouldn't mind having me along, that is."

"No ma'am," he says. He figures he owes her for the press debacle, at the very least.

There's a cabinet on the wall, near the space designated for his bike, with several different sizes of helmets - and one battered, sky-blue M1 helmet with the remains of a letter A painted on the front. Steve gets a private kick out of wearing it, particularly since Clint didn't seem to think he actually would. He still hasn't tried very hard to find out where it came from. It's enough that he has it and that, so far as he can tell, it's the real thing. Maybe not his original stolen helmet, but close enough.

He snaps that into place and pulls down another proper bike helmet that looks like it would fit Agent Dunham, inspecting it a moment before he holds it out. "Did you need to go back to your room first, or are you good to go?"

Olivia grins as she takes the offered helmet. "Cute," she comments, nodding to his own helmet. She considers asking what the A stands for, or if that's really safe to be wearing on a motorcycle, but decides against it.

Instead, she just buckles on her own helmet and smiles up at him. "And no, I think I'm ready when you are, Captain." There might be just a hint of teasing to the title. Just a little. It's kind of hard to resist, between the earlier singing and the helmet.

He grabs the rim, tugging on it self-consciously. "It's a long story. I wore one like this on my first mission. Which I guess wasn't technically a mission, more like desertion- Anyway, it's. There's sentimental value."

Plus even if they did crash, he'd probably come out of it more or less okay. He swings onto the back of the bike and settles in, feeling disproportionately happy to be on its back.

He really loves this bike.

"Um." Hmm. How to do this. "Whenever you're ready. You'll have to hold on."

Edited 2011-09-23 03:14 (UTC)

Olivia... is so not going to ask about the mission/desertion/whatever. She has enough long stories of her own to recognize the sound of one.

She hesitates for a moment, and then decides the best thing to do is just plow through the awkwardness of this until they both forget it's there. Swinging up onto the seat behind him, she winds her arms around him carefully, making sure she's got a secure grip. "Okay, I've never been on one of these, so... do me a favor and take it slow at first?"

He kicks the stand up, starts the bike, and rumbles carefully down the length of the garage, past about twelve cars that all belong to Tony.

One of these days Steve is going to start donating them to charity just to see if the billionaire notices.

"JARVIS -"

"Already done, sir."

Eventually, Steve will get used to the voice from nowhere anticipating his needs. For the time being, he's focusing on keeping a nice steady pace and not tipping Olivia off the back of the bike with any sudden maneuvers. "Do you mind if I pick up the speed a little? We'll have to merge with the traffic on East Drive."

Olivia tightens her grip fractionally as the bike starts, taking a moment to settle into the movement. At Steve's question, she nods a little against his shoulder. "I think I'm good. Go ahead."

The bike gives a satisfying roar as Steve curves down the well-lit concrete ramp that leads under the mansion - well, under the grounds. Under the grounds, under the rumble of traffic on Fifth Avenue, and up again to emerge from the ground in a clump of trees next to East Drive. Steve guns it, thundering onto the road with a sound much more impressive than the speed merits.

If he were by himself, he might consider going a little in excess of the speed limit.

As it is, he keeps careful pace with the vehicles around them, thinking maybe the helmet wasn't the best idea as several tourists start exclaiming and taking pictures - but then the locals start waving to him, and he can't help the little grin that creeps onto his face.

Yeah, maybe there is a tiny ego in there somewhere. At the very least, pride and gratitude.

"Hang on, Agent Dunham," he says, swinging onto Terrace and East 72nd. People pay less attention as they get past Park, and at a stoplight, Steve unstraps his helmet and twists around to tuck it into one of the saddlebags. Nostalgia or no, where they're going, he'd rather not draw attention to himself.

'Where they're going' turns out to be a small flower shop, its windows hand-painted with seasonal designs. The Captain putters to a stop and kills the engine. "I'll only be a minute."

Edited 2011-09-23 06:20 (UTC)

Olivia can't help an amused grin of her own at the reaction to Steve. The press outside the gates was annoying, but there's something kind of charming about the people waving to the Captain as they pass.

Before long, the smile's not just for that. Out in the open air of the city, on the street where she can see people, cars, the sky, she can't help but relax. Generally speaking, New York is New York is New York - but when it comes to the details, it's nothing like the city she just left behind her, and something unwinds in her chest where it's been knotted tight since she started to remember who she was months ago.

When they roll to a stop, Olivia shifts her weight a little so she can brace one foot against the curb, and unwinds her arms from around Steve. She eyes the shop they've stopped in front of, bemused. "Sure. I'll wait out here with the bike."

He isn't gone long. When he comes back out, he's holding a small bouquet and looking bemusedly at what seems to be a description of the flowers in it. The bouquet itself gets very carefully wrapped in its tissue paper and tucked into the saddlebag next to the helmet.

"One more stop," he says, apologetic. "Then wherever you want to go."

Steve settles back onto the bike, waits to make sure Olivia is ready, and then pulls back out onto the street. From there, they go south, avoiding the bigger streets as much as is possible in this part of the city.

Where they end up is a block on 53rd crowded with corporate buildings in neutrally impressive designs - and punctuated by a small pocket park. The space is dotted with tables and trees and backed by a waterfall fountain. He climbs off the bike, retrieves the flowers, and turns them over in his hands, not quite looking at Olivia. "If you wouldn't mind staying here. I promise, I won't be long."

Edited 2011-09-23 07:03 (UTC)

Olivia frowns a little, but everything in his expression and body language screams that who and what the flowers are for is a touchy subject, and so instead of asking, she just nods a little in response.

"Take all the time you need," she says quietly, glancing past him to the fountain. "I'm not going anywhere in a hurry, and I promise I can take care of myself in the meantime."

"Thank you. It really will just be a minute."

He manages a smile at her, then looks both ways before jogging across the street and into the park. One of the street vendors near its entrance looks up and nods to him, and he nods back - the man is a Vietnam vet, Steve discovered on his third visit to the place. Even not knowing why the Captain comes here every Saturday like clockwork, leaving flowers on the fountain rim, the guy still knows it's important and it's private. There's a kind of brotherhood in it that Steve finds grounding. It's like shared mourning, almost, for things lost that others can't understand.

The Captain slows when he reaches the tables, carefully avoiding the eyes of those present. Most of them don't look up. They're busy with papers, meals, a Saturday at work or a weekend business meeting. Life at high-speed in a city that's forgotten what it means to be a home front.

Steve stops at the fountain and sits down on the rim, turning the flowers over in his hands again. Quietly, enough that's it's almost drowned out by the falling water, he says, "The woman at the shop said this one is for courage and bluntness. I thought... I figured you'd appreciate that, even if the flower isn't your taste."

He starts to set them down when someone hails him. "Captain America! Or excuse me, Captain Rogers. Dennis Turing, The Daily Globe. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."

Olivia watches Steve out of the corner of her eye, just enough to keep him in sight without invading what little privacy is possible even in a park this small in Manhattan. She's not watching him out of impatience - she's just concerned, in a half-conscious, completely illogical way that she's going to blink and he'll vanish, and then not only has she lost the one person here really invested in helping her, but she has to explain to SHIELD what the hell happened. All in all, maybe best if she just keeps an eye on him.

When she notices someone approaching him, though, she turns to look straight at them, expression suddenly intent. She's not about to head over just yet - maybe the man's a friend, and even if he's not, Steve can probably handle it on his own - but it's obvious the Captain wants a moment to himself just now, with whatever this is, and something in her bristles at anyone invading that.

"Mr. Turing," Steve says, and stands, his expression going closed and neutral at once. "I'm afraid interviews need to be scheduled through our press relations office."

Not that Steve can't or won't give impomptu interviews- on the contrary, Agent Glass seems to find it one of his most annoying habits -but here, now? No.

"Come on, Cap, you know how hard those interviews are to get."

Turing is drawing attention now, and Steve feels himself fold up a little inside at the looks the flowers are getting. Curiosity, excited whispers, people apparently craning their heads to spot a woman alone.

"No, Mr. Turing. I'm sorry."

Even from this far away, it's obvious the man isn't planning to back off, and what's more, he's drawing attention, and Steve's looking uncomfortable. Olivia sighs and takes off her helmet, stowing it in the bag along with Steve's before she slides off the bike and jogs across the street.

She might not have a badge in this universe - and she's not even dressed in her usual suit-and-trenchcoat uniform - but she can still manage a certain air of 'official and on a mission' with about as much effort as it takes to breathe. "Excuse me, Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt," - she can't help shooting a pointed glance at the reporter at that - "but if I can borrow you for a minute...?"

She catches his eye, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly. He can brush her off if he wants, and that's fine, but the out's there if he'd like to take it.

The absolute relief on his face at Olivia's appearance should be answer enough as to whether or not he plans to ignore her. "Of course, Agent Dunham," he says, laying the flowers down and gesturing back toward the street. "We should be going in any case."

"You're the redhead," the reporter says. "Aren't you. The one that's been staying at the mansion."

"She's our FBI liason," Steve says, because it's not exactly a lie. "If you'll excuse m-"

Turing cuts him off. "Seem to recall Stark saying a little more than that. Showing her the old haunts, Cap?"

"I'm sure you've done your research. You know I never would have come here," Steve says, his normally even temper rising.

Edited 2011-09-29 00:26 (UTC)

Olivia's jaw tightens, restrained annoyance flaring to actual anger in her eyes. It's subtle, easy to miss, but there's a certain, sudden stiffness to her posture - not a reaction to a perceived threat, because this man isn't, he's just irritating, but certainly a silent warning that he might want to back off now.

She manages a smile that doesn't even approach amusement, and snaps, "And Tony Stark is obviously a reliable source of information on that matter." She steps forward, placing herself very slightly between the reporter and Steve, and gives the Captain a glance and a little nod toward the bike before turning her attention back to the other man. "Look, whatever you're after here, you're not going to get it. So stop."

Steve submits to her implied order without a word, turning away and heading for the exit. At least most of the crowd is still sitting down, though a few have pulled out camera-cellular-phones and it's all Steve can do to keep himself calm and his expression neutral.

Turing gives Olivia a frustrated look, yelling, "Cap, wait!" before turning to her. "Look- Agent Dunham, right? Either I splash your name and image all over tomorrow's paper with nice big headlines about your relationship with the Captain-next-door or you let me follow this lead."

He leans around Olivia again and yells, "I know who the flowers are for!"

Steve stops, his hands fisting, grief and anger knotting up painfully in a spot too deep in his chest to be physical. He hears the manufactured click-whirr of several phones and forces himself to start walking again.

The punching bag in the gym is probably going to need replacing when he's done with it.